


Starting with Stockings

by bench



Series: Dave wears lingerie and likes it [2]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Implied Underage, Lingerie, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-16
Updated: 2015-02-16
Packaged: 2018-03-13 05:41:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3369884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bench/pseuds/bench
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is someone you are trying to impress. Someone who you walked in on watching porn of dudes dressed in this crap with his hands in his pants, and damned if you didn’t get inspired.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Starting with Stockings

You take a moment to regret every single thing that you have ever done or thought as you cling to the corner of your desk having just escaped falling flat on your face. Your painstakingly selected stockings mock you from the floppy inches hanging off of your toes to the uncomfortably tight bunch halfway up your calves. Putting them on has proven to be as stupid and difficult as every other step of this scheme so far. You shuffle-hop over to sit on the edge of your bed and yank them up the rest of the way, taking out your frustration at yourself and this stupid situation you have gotten yourself into on the stretchy nylon. They snag on your uneven toenails and a tiny hole starts to grow near the bottom. You swear under your breath as you twist them around so that the hole will be on the bottom of your foot. The useless things cost twenty bucks and they're already coming apart for no damn reason. This is stupid.

You start to pull on the other leg with slightly more caution and it makes it all the way up without incident. The stockings end just above mid-thigh, but you have to tug the left one up to make them even. Then the right one. As you survey your work you can already feel them starting to slip back down. Why do people do this shit on purpose? And every fucking day? You shake your head as you turn to the mirror propped up against your desk.

You frown. Your thighs are too muscular from countless rooftop sword fights for this look to be even the slightest bit attractive. The lines in the stockings are pulled all out of shape and they're all twisted around. You fix them to the best of your limited ability and it doesn't help. Still huge thighs and disproportionately tiny ankles. The contrast is striking and not in a good way. You squint at the mirror. Maybe you should have shaved your legs. The stockings are sheer enough that you can sort of see your hair through them and it is not a good look all twisted up and squashed flat under there. The stripes do a good job of mitigating the effect at least you think, starting to feel a bit hysterical. How on earth did you talk yourself into this?

The matching garters sit on your bed, ruby red and threatening. You inspect them for a moment, trying to figure out exactly how they work. You would rather not find out, but you pick them up anyway. The buckles clink together and you almost flinch. Do you just clip them on? Is that going to be enough grip to keep the stockings up? They have already slipped a few inches down your legs and you tug them back up again as best you can with hands full of garters. You hook them up to the red ribbon lining the top of the stockings and the hem of your tiny red briefs which are almost concealed by the hem of your shirt. You also pause to tie the ribbon in a little bow at the front. How the hell did you talk yourself into this?

Adding the garters does seem to sort of help your thighs look less huge. Maybe. You're probably just fooling yourself to make yourself feel better, but you aren't doing a very good job. You just feel ridiculous and pretty awful. You have been blushing for so long your face is probably stained red permanently. Why the fuck did you think this would be hot? Why did you let yourself buy all this absurd shit? You look like such a loser tryhard.

But you have to admit that the briefs look good stretched out tight over your ass. Maybe you should have just stopped there and foregone the leg stuff all together?

But there is someone you are trying to impress. Someone who you walked in on watching porn of dudes dressed in this crap with his hands in his pants and damned if you didn’t get inspired. Now that you have most of it on you can't help but wonder if it is really worth it. You just feel stupid.

On the other hand you've already bought it all and you're half dressed. It's pretty much too late to talk yourself back out of it now. If you still feel like an asshole when you have the whole ensemble on you can abort mission, but might as well see it through. You did go all the trouble of picking it out and spending your hard earned-money on it. Maybe you can take a few pictures for artistic purposes or something. No one on the internet would know that they're your legs.

You reach into the pile of Amazon-branded boxes you had secreted into the apartment over the course of the past week and squirreled away so that your bro wouldn't see them. The need for utmost secrecy tested your mad ninja skills to their absolute limit. Now, on the big day, they sit in a small pile at the foot of your bed menacing as fuck. Just having them out in the open like this, even in the safety of your room, makes you nervous. You pull out the next item on the list: heels. Simple and low, but as ruby-red as the garters. Falling over is not sexy so no stilettoes. Yet. If the heels are going to be a thing moving forward you can ease into it. The shoes you got are easy enough to put on with a single T-strap over the top of your foot and around your ankle.

Only one more to go. You dig though the pile of crumpled, discarded packaging until you find your prize. The plastic wrapping parts easily and the skirt that falls out onto your floor is even smaller than you remember from the pictures online. The length would be too short to be decent on someone four feet tall. You pick it up pinched between thumb and forefinger and glare at it as if it was the skirt that got you in this whole situation. But it wasn't the skirt. It was you and your unbridled incestuous homolust. That is what got you here, and that is what is going to carry you through putting the damn thing on and going for the gold. Or it will in a minute. You fall back onto your bed, the skirt falling over your face when you fling it skyward with dismay and distaste. Your sigh makes the ruffles flutter against your lips. It smells like plastic packaging. You sigh again.

He's probably going to laugh you right out of the room and then you will be in a position even worse than where you started. Instead of being his obnoxious but fun brother, you will be his creepy and fucked up brother. A brother to be avoided at all costs. No more fantasizing about him pulling you into his lap while you are playing shitty video games together. No more watching the way his shirt rides up when he reaches for something on a high shelf in the kitchen. No more strife. You probably won't see him until the day you turn eighteen and he kicks your ass out on the street.

But you have arrived at a point where it's either take action or lose your fucking mind. Want has finally won out. Right now you would rather have him avoid you completely than keep pining away while he since he is always so hot and tempting and out of reach. You need closure. You need a yes or a no. You need to nut up and face him.

Just getting his attention would be easy enough. What you should really do is forgo the whole charade with the shoes and the skirt and everything is overkill. You should be able to just go into the living room naked, throw yourself across his lap in the most sultry manner you can manage, and say "Hey bro wanna fuck?" It would achieve the same effect as throwing yourself at him all gussied up: acceptance and sex or ejection and avoidance. But going through all this bullshittery somehow makes you feel better about yourself and what you are planning to do. Maybe if everything goes to hell you can pretend that it was the outfit or the persona rather than you that he rejects. And clothed you feel a little less vulnerable than walking in with nothing but your birthday suit. Not by much though with a skirt this short.

You sigh and roll off the bed. You are committed. You are doing this. You are making it happen. You snatch up the red-pleated skirt before it can fall off your face and onto the ground, undo the zipper, step into it mindful of your heels (which you really should have put on last, what were you thinking?), hike it up, and redo the zipper before you can get to thinking again.

It barely covers your briefs, but you didn’t expect any better. It's just that little. You step back and look into the mirror. The flair of the skirt disguises the un-feminine shape of your hips and even the mere inch of the heels is enough even out your dudely legs a bit. The stockings look fantastic with the shoes and feel excellent against your legs, so smooth. You lightly run your fingers over them and are surprised by how warm they feel to your hands when they feel so cool against the skin of your legs. It could be worse. If you could forget why you were doing this it would be almost pleasant!

Just to try it out you spin. The skirt flares out to reveal a teasing flash of the tops of your briefs, the same red as the skirt, and the tops of the garters. Your angle isn't fantastic, but you think that maybe, just maybe, it might have actually have been kind of hot. You stroke the pleats flat again and run your hands down the stockings. Very nice.

Your shirt is baggy and incongruous against the heels, stockings, garters, and skirt, but just like in your Bro's porn it really works; highlights the innocent, twink-y look. It's exactly what you were going for. You look extremely bangable. And even beyond your lascivious goals for this outfit you look… cute. It’s a little artsy, a little racy, really working. You have to fight down the grin that is threatening to creep its way across your face.

You try out a couple of poses, fighting down your blush. You have now moved past feeling awkward about wearing these clothes, but now you feel embarrassed about just how much you're into it. You play with the hem of the skirt and try to look coy. It works. You like the way you look. A lot. You tug your shirt down over the skirt and try to look innocent, then tug it up to reveal a sliver of skin and try on a smirk. Grab a heel and pout. Stand in a lunge and cast a sultry look up. Tousle your hair to look sex-mussed. Stretch out your full length leaned against your bed. Hot fucking damn.

You strut to your door and fling it open.

"Hey bro, I need to show you something!"

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://soullux.tumblr.com/post/25185186346/ahhh-huff-huff-askjd-i-like-d-ave-in-thigh-highs) wonderful artwork.


End file.
